


A Collector's Appreciation

by itsalwaystheapocalypse, untilthepainstarts



Category: Original Work
Genre: A Close Personal Relationship With Knives, Anal Sex, Blackmail, Blindfolds, Blood, Captivity, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Kidnapping, Knife Play, M/M, Master/Slave, Non-Consensual Bondage, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22870744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwaystheapocalypse/pseuds/itsalwaystheapocalypse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/untilthepainstarts/pseuds/untilthepainstarts
Summary: Kauri is a runaway Box Boy, a kind of human pet in a world where it's legal to have and keep them. He was trained as a Romantic, but ran from his previous owner and has been living on the streets in an undisclosed city. Martin Viklund-Reid is a man with ties to the criminal underworld, a collector with an appreciation for a certain kind of art... and when he sees Kauri, he sees a piece of unfinished work.Perfect for an artist willing to take the time to perfect it.WARNING: This is explicit smut, including non-con and dubcon elements. Heed the tags. Characters are original and belong to itsalwaystheapocalypse (Kauri) and untilthepainstarts (Martin), respectively. Work is written without regard to a particular narrative or storyline, so it's more like a series of vignettes.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 81





	1. Unmistakable: Acquisition

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how long this will be, and it won't follow a particular narrative. It's simply a thing for fun between a couple of writers! So I'm leaving chapter counts open-ended. We'll see where it goes!

The man in the suit smiled at him, warm and friendly, from across the table in the little restaurant, watching with patient amusement as Kauri wolfed down his cheeseburger with impressive speed. “Hey, _whoa,“_ he said, holding up one hand.

He had nice hands, Kauri thought idly. Long-fingered, like maybe he played an instrument or something.

“You don’t need to scarf that down all at once!” The man in the suit laughed, and it was a really nice _laugh_ , too. “I’ve got no places to be. Just enjoy it.”

His voice was warm and nearly melodic with the accent people had here. Kauri smiled, a little shamefaced, feeling genuinely guilty for having eaten so quickly.

He wiped at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, sitting slowly back. “S-sorry. I just, uh, hadn’t eaten much yet today.” He hadn’t eaten since lunch _yesterday,_ but that wasn’t so bad and he didn’t want any _pity_ over it. It had just been a long bus ride back here from the other side of the city, and yesterday’s panhandling had barely covered the bus fare. “I’m pretty hungry. Thanks for offering to buy me lunch. You… you didn’t have to do that. I’m really grateful.”

“Not a problem at all, lad,” The man said, smile brightening. All he’d gotten for himself was a small plate of fries, and he ate them slowly, one by one, while watching Kauri absolutely _demolish_ a cheeseburger combo. “I’ve seen you before, you know.”

“Have you?” Kauri frowned, fighting a hint of unease. Lots of people saw him - it wasn’t that unusual that someone had seen him more than once. Most people didn’t say anything, though - some kind of unwritten rule, not to let the boy on the street corner know you saw him again and again and nothing changed about his life for the better.

Usually the people who had seen him more than once went one of two ways - they gave less, or they gave more. But they _never_ admitted, either way, that they knew his face.

“You’ve asked for help at that intersection before,” The man replied, cheerfully. There was no hint of judgement in his voice, only curiosity. “I haven’t been able to stop by, previously, but I’ve long meant to take a moment to feed you, give you what you _need._ Today, I was ready. How long have you been a resident of our illustrious overheated streets, then?”

Kauri shrugged, relaxing now. Okay, _that_ made sense - he probably drove to work the same way every day. He’d just seen Kauri with his little sign asking for anything anyone could spare, giving the same effusive thanks for a handful of coins as he did offers to buy him new shoes, or sandals, or a new shirt.

Meant to buy him lunch, had to wait until he had a long lunch hour, enough time to linger over a plate of fries.

“A few weeks. I came from somewhere else.” He pulled the milkshake closer to him with a low scraping sound of glass on the table, picking up a long-handled silver spoon. He used it to fish the cherry off the top, a little whipped cream coming with it.

Focused on his goal, he didn’t notice the intensity with which the man’s eyes followed the cherry, bits of whipped cream clinging to its rounded red sides, from milkshake to his mouth. He did not notice how the man watched him bite down as the cold juice burst inside his mouth - the way his eyes dropped to Kauri’s lips and then his throat, taking him in as he chewed and swallowed.

He didn’t see the man’s hand, hidden as it was under the table, dig fingernails into his own thigh through the neatly pressed pants to hold himself still. 

By the time Kauri looked back at him, the man had his head resting on one hand and was smiling again, friendly and open, an avid sparkling interest in his eyes. “Are you preparing to _return_ to that somewhere else, then?”

Kauri hesitated, then shook his head. “Not for a while. Some things happened… I needed to leave town for a bit. I don’t really want to, um, to talk about it.”

“Sorry to pry. Did you have friends here, then?” The man’s curiosity was kind of nice. Kauri hadn’t spoken to much of anyone since he’d gotten here, just the _hi how are you, can you spare a five_ routine. It was nice to have someone so interested in him, for once.

“I… you’re going to laugh at me,” Kauri said, flushing a little. Something in the man’s expression brightened again, at the sight of the blood rushing to his face.

“Allow me to promise you that no matter what you say… in this moment, I will not laugh at you,” the man said firmly, sincerely.

Kauri ducked his head and used the spoon to take a bite of chocolate milkshake. Cold and smooth on his tongue, burst of sugar and smooth flavor. He closed his eyes, for a second, reveling in it. Owen never gave him milkshakes. The first time Jack had bought him one, his mind hadn’t known what he was looking at, other than shakes he’d seen in movies - but his tongue had remembered the flavor.

He did not see the man’s eyes lock on the way his lips closed around the long-handled spoon.

The man cleared his throat, and Kauri’s eyes opened again to find the same charming, affable expression from before. “I promised not to laugh,” the man said, good-natured humor lacing his voice alongside a hint of a reminder. “You have to tell me what you were going to say.”

“Oh. Right.” The man in the suit was looking outside, now, not even at him at all. “Well, I still think you’ll laugh, but… I picked this city at random when I first got here. Just… got off the bus when it stopped. I don’t know anyone, and I-”

He caught himself in time.

He’d been so relaxed he’d very nearly said, _and I can’t read the map._

The man was watching him, expectantly. “You what, love?”

Kauri cleared his throat and took another bite of milkshake. “I don’t usually do things like that, is all,” he said smoothly, and stuck the straw down in his shake now, hoping the time he spent drinking it was time he wouldn’t be expected to make more idle chatter that could get him in trouble. The man didn’t seem like the type to tell anyone if Kauri said something, admitted to illiteracy or any of the other tells that gave the runaway Box Boys away.

Not that they were _all_ illiterate. Just the ones like him, with owners who had wanted to ensure they could not read well enough to find their way out.

They were both largely quiet after that, beyond a few more amused comments about his appetite, a couple of questions about his plans for the rest of the day, and Kauri’s quiet, friendly answers. Kauri made himself eat more slowly, and noticed that the man didn’t really eat anything at all after that. He paid the bill with a smile and a comment to the waitress that had her blushing.

Then he turned back to Kauri. “I need to head back to my car. Your particular corner of choice is right next to the parking lot, isn’t it?” There was a pause for thought, and Kauri caught a flicker of something in the man’s expression that he could not quite read. “Grand and Parkview, right?”

“Um, yeah, I think so.” Kauri had no idea what the names of the streets were, he couldn’t even look at the signs without the headache starting up, swift and strong. That _sounded_ right, though, he thought…

 _Something_ and Parkview, anyway, right?

The man gave him a sort of strange look - something deeply pleased, but in a way that made the hair on the back of Kauri’s neck stand up. “Hm. Well, walk me that direction then, will you? I’ve enjoyed your company this afternoon.”

He would follow him out, Kauri thought, slightly uneasy now. Follow him and then make sure he was gone before Kauri ducked down an alleyway or two and spent the rest of his day somewhere else.

The man dropped his pace once they had left the restaurant and stepped back out into the dry sunshine that beat down into Kauri’s dark hair and pale skin with a nearly physical weight. They ended up walking side by side, not quite ambling down the street. Kauri had jammed his hands into his pockets, the leather bracelet on his left wrist a pressure against it, covering the barcode that would give him away.

Kauri didn’t notice the men in simple nondescript polo shirts and pants that peeled themselves away from their casual positions along the wall outside the restaurant and began to follow them. He had started to look over his shoulder at the movement, but a man nearly walked right into him and his head jerked back around so he could duck to the side, almost into the man in the suit who had bought him lunch, and avoid a collision.

Just ahead of them a man in a polo shirt stopped briefly to light some kind of sweet-smelling cigarette. The smoke wafted around Kauri’s head. It smelled like cloves maybe, like the art kids smoked outside his dorm-

_How the fuck would he know what kind of cigarettes art majors smoke? Was that part of the memories that slid in and out of his mind? Had he been an art major, maybe? He was sure he used to write poetry…_

The man in the suit seemed to notice Kauri’s distraction, because he cleared his throat unobtrusively. Kauri blinked up at him and he smiled, leaning slightly down. “Before we part ways, can I ask… what’s your name, love?” 

“Oh. I didn’t tell you, did I? Um. I’m Kauri.” The man held out his right hand and Kauri shook it, trying to ensure his grip was firm. Nat had shown him how to shake hands well, in a way that didn’t give away what he was, or that he was sometimes so nervous. No limp wrist, grip on tightly, firm shake once or maybe twice, let go.

“That’s a good handshake,” The man said, his voice slightly low, and Kauri blushed again, grinning at the compliment. Nat would be glad to hear the afternoon she’d spent teaching him how to act like a normal person had paid off. “And your name is _lovely.”_

The man just ahead of them had stopped again, took another slow drag, and spoke some words into the phone he had put up to his ear. A car with blacked-out windows pulled up alongside them at the curb.

Kauri didn’t really notice - the man in the suit had lifted a hand to brush the backs of his knuckles against Kauri’s face, and he was entirely focused on the shiver that ran down his spine, not entirely unpleasant. “Kauri. No last name, though?”

Kauri hunched his shoulders, feeling suddenly defensive, uncertain. “I-I don’t…” _Don’t say I don’t have one, don’t say I don’t have one, don’t say I don’t have one._ “I just don’t, uh, have much to do with my family anymore.” That was true, at least. “So I don’t… use it.”

“How sad. I hate to hear about someone estranged from family so young. How do you _spell_ Kauri, if I may be bold enough to ask?“ The man looked at him through the cloud of sweet smoke. When Kauri turned his head to squint a glare at the asshole smoking so close by, the man in the suit took his chin between thumb and forefinger and turned his eyes back. “Ah, ah,” He said, not quite reprovingly. “I asked a _question_ , darling.”

Kauri felt the first lick of real worry, a coldness that seemed to wash straight down his spine. He moved to pull back, but the grip on his chin tightened and held his eyes locked on the man’s. “Please let go,” He whispered.

“No. Tell me how to spell your name.”

Kauri swallowed, hard. The cold worry shifted into an even colder fear. He felt rooted here, frozen in this spot. “I… I don’t know.”

The man _tsked,_ clicking tongue against teeth, and shook his head without taking his eyes off Kauri’s. “Poor dear. Can’t spell your name… no home, no family, no one knows you’re here, and you _clearly_ didn’t know what street corner I found you at, since those streets are on two opposite ends of this city… Oh, love. You _really_ shouldn’t let strange men buy you things if you’re going to be so _gorgeously_ vulnerable.”

Kauri moved to pull away again and realized there were men on either side of him, the man in the suit in front, and a car just behind. He felt a sinking, awful familiarity - a memory he didn’t actually have, that something like this had happened before. “W-wait-… you, you said-”

“My name is Martin,” The man in the suit said smoothly, interrupting him. “I’m inclined even to allow you to _use it,_ although only in very specific circumstances. But we’ll discuss that a bit more once we have time to really get to know each other, won’t we?”

“No, I’m not-… I don’t want to-”

“Quiet.” The man jerked his head to the side, just slightly, and the men on other side of him were suddenly boxing him in, pressed against him. Kauri flinched back, only to trip on the curb and smack his back into the side of the car, next to the lid for the gas tank.

“Wait, wh-what’s… why are you-”

“Don’t ask questions, darling, it’s tiresome. Get in the car.”

“N-no.” Kauri braced his feet and stood his ground, setting his jaw in defiance. The men on either side of him bristled, but the man in the suit - Martin - only smiled.”I, I appreciate you buying me lunch - I said thank you - but… but people buying you things doesn’t mean you _owe them_. If you try… I’ll scream.”

Martin’s smile widened, just a little, and he reached out to run a hand through Kauri’s riot of wild black curls, longer than he really meant them to be but he kept forgetting to get a haircut. It wasn’t a malicious movement - more like a man who watched a kitten rolling around on a pillow and he just couldn’t help himself but pet the soft fur.

Kauri shivered, ducking his head instinctively _into_ the touch.

“Oh, that’s _nice,”_ Martin said softly, and did it again. This time, Kauri fought the instincts and the training, and held himself still, despite the rush of pleasure that seemed to run straight from scalp to knees and back again.

“I’ll scream,” He said again, but his voice was weaker. “For… for help.”

“No, you won’t,” Martin said with perfect confidence. “Because you are an _escaped Box Boy,_ and if I take that bracelet off your wrist I’ll see a barcode there, plain as day, won’t I?” The men on either side of him grabbed his wrists and jerked them upwards. Martin held Kauri’s frightened gaze as he held one hand out and the second man handed him a pair of black leather gloves.

“M-My…”

Martin pulled the gloves on, slowly, taking his sweet time. In no hurry at all. Then he reached out, trailing leather-clad fingertips up his arm, until he popped the snaps that held Kauri’s bracelet closed and slid it slowly off, to drop abandoned and unnoticed in the gutter.

On the inside of his left wrist, a barcode in deep black ink, and below that the numbers _645898._

“There it is.” Martin traced little circles across the tattoo, as Kauri fought to pull away and the men in the polo shirts held him fast with his back shoved up against the car. No one walking past them stopped or even looked - if they did they walked even _faster_ to get away. No one asked him if he needed help. “Look at that. You’re _property,_ aren’t you? Just got up and walked away on two legs, like my table getting a mind of its own…”

“Please,” Kauri said softly, and Martin let out a soft exhalation in response. “Please, you don’t have to-”

“I’m giving you a _choice,_ Kauri,” Martin said, in a tone of perfect rationality. Two men having a polite discussion, one of them significantly younger and backed up against a car, the other pressing further and further into his space with every passing second. “If you scream, or try to walk away, I will call law enforcement myself. I’ll show them the barcode on that… _beautifully_ thin wrist-” Martin’s thumb rubbed, slowly, back and forth over the barcode now, pressed into the line of numbers at the bottom. Kauri swallowed hard against the way the pressure of his hand felt very nearly _good._ “-and they’ll take you back, won’t they? Scan your… microchip, or something.”

“I d-don’t have a-”

“That’s really not important,” Martin said smoothly. One of the men holding Kauri opened the door to the car, and Kauri looked sidelong at the dark space inside with growing panic. _Not again,_ his mind whispered, fighting the fear of a memory he didn’t consciously have any longer.

Still, no one stopped.

No one asked if he needed help.

Martin slid the cool leather covering his palm over the side of Kauri’s face and gently turned his eyes back. “Look at _me,_ love. Your choice is this. You can step into my car of your own free will, or you can… not. If you don’t, I’ll ensure you find your way back to that very sad man who keeps asking about you on TV. If you go with him, sweet boy, I think we both know you’ll never be seen by anyone else again.” He brushed a bit of Kauri’s hair from his eyes, head tilting as he took in the trembling and the fear. Kauri’s breath had begun to come in quick, shaking gasps, and something in Martin _lit up_ in response. “If you come with _me,_ however… I’ll get bored of you, eventually. And I promise I’ll let you back out right here where I found you. Intact… more or less. Honestly… if you’re good enough, I’ll even pay you a little for your time.”

Martin smiled. Kauri swallowed, hard. His heart was racing, less a heartbeat than a vibration inside his chest, and he saw someone passing by look at them, see his barcode, and do a double-take.

People walking by probably saw a runaway Box Boy being scooped back up and taken home.

“Pretty thing like you… you could do a lot with five hundred or so, hm?”

This wasn’t any choice at all.

He had no reason to trust the man, but if the alternative was going back to _Owen,_ and there was even a chance the man was telling the truth about letting him go later… maybe he could buy some time, find a way out of Martin’s house. Houses had ways out, they had stairs or second-story windows. It wouldn’t be like Owen’s balcony, seven stories up, too high up to survive the jump…

“Get in the car,” Martin said again, more firmly this time.

Kauri nodded, a quick jerk of his chin down and then back up again, and when the man let go of his arms he felt his stomach sink as he climbed, all on his own, into the backseat of Martin’s silver car. The seats were a cool maroon leather and it was so dark from the tinted windows that Kauri had to blink rapidly as his eyes adjusted.

“Should we get in with you?” One of the polo-shirted men asked, in a low voice.

“Oh, no,” Martin replied smoothly. “I can handle him just fine from here, thanks.” Kauri pushed himself to the other side and tried, surreptitiously, to open the door and run out into the street. The handle moved - the door did not open.

“Oh, you must think I’m _quite_ stupid,” Martin said pleasantly, settling into the seat, closing his car door. All at once, the last bit of light was gone and they were left in semi-darkness. “No, love, that door won’t open for you.”

Kauri swallowed, trying to soothe his own fear, to figure out what came next. His eyes jumped through the spacious backseat interior - windows tinted so dark he couldn’t see out and no one else could see in, a blacked-out pane of glass between them and the driver up front. Low yellowed lights along the interior roof, the only light to see by. “Wh-why… why _me?”_

“Two reasons. I don’t mind explaining.” Martin settled back - no seatbelt, Kauri noticed, as he felt the car pull away from the curb, the lurching, sickening resignation that whatever was going to happen to him, it was happening now. “The first is simple - I’ve heard about Box Boys, and I’ve always wondered if the rumors about their… _responsiveness_ … are true. I did not lie to you, Kauri. I’ve seen you for some time, standing at that corner. I knew what you were, and I had you researched, photographed. I saw what I wanted. Now I have it.”

“And… and the second reason?” Kauri’s voice was nearly a whisper.

Martin’s eyebrows furrowed, for a moment deep in thought. “Well. That. I’ve… had some _heartbreak_ recently. They say a rebound is good for soothing such a deep grief… it doesn’t matter. I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell since my heartbreak. That dry spell ends now. Come here.”

Kauri pressed himself even more firmly against the door, as far away as he could get, and slowly shook his head. “I-I don’t want to-… I don’t think-”

Martin sighed, a sound of genuine disappointment. One of his hands dropped to his hip. “You don’t need to think about much at _all,_ now, Kauri. That’s not what you were made for.”

 _I didn’t have them make you for me so you could think, Kauri._

“I said,” Martin said, in a low, deep voice, “Come _here.”_

The _authority_ in his tone was overwhelming - it filled the car’s interior, was nearly a pressure that pushed Kauri forward. All his conditioning, his training, the months in the Facility burned in him to _obey_. He had to dig his fingernails into the soft leather seats to keep himself still. Even so, he slowly leaned forward, just a little.

Just enough.

Too much.

Martin grabbed him by the hair and dragged him the rest of the way across the backseat until Kauri was nearly on his hands and knees, Martin’s hand gripped hard into his hair to hold him still. Kauri went to jerk himself backwards, to pull away, and felt cool metal press, just a little, against his throat.

He went still.

Martin’s breathing had changed - gone heavier, a little ragged. He used the grip in Kauri’s hair to pull his head up, until his mouth pressed lightly - barely a brush, a kiss - against Kauri’s ear. The knife moved, too, the same almost-cutting pressure against the side of his neck.

“Pl-please, please don’t kill me,” Kauri whispered, tears pricking at his eyes. “Please don’t k-kill-”

“And waste such a perfectly formed mouth on such a beautiful body?” Martin chuckled, puffs of air against his earlobe. Kauri felt a warmth suffuse him, unwanted and loathed, the simple sudden heat that began to pool in the core of him. “I would _never._ Not unless you keep being so… rude. Are you going to be _rude,_ Kauri?”

“N-No, I w-w-won’t, I-… _ah!”_ Martin’s lips had found a spot just below his ear, where his neck and jaw met, and begun to suck, lightly, at the skin there. The warmth in him was a shivery awful pleasure that he - for once - hated.

It was like Owen, and not like him at all.

“God, it’s true what they say… you’re _already_ getting hard for me, aren’t you, darling?” Martin spoke so his lips moved on Kauri’s skin, and he whimpered.

The knife pricked at his skin, just a little, and when he flinched back the hand fisted even more tightly in his hair. Kauri had nowhere to go. “I… I don’t know, Martin,” Kauri whispered, and let Martin pull his head back even further by the grip on his hair. “I don’t know if I am.”

It was a lie. He _knew_ he was, he could feel it, starting to become a weight between his own legs. He was too well trained for anything else.

Martin’s tongue licked at the drop of blood that had welled up from the prick of the knife. He closed his eyes tightly and shivered, wishing that it didn’t feel so good.

“We’ll have to make sure you can really feel it, then, won’t we? So it’s… _unmistakable_. I’m in the mood for you to call me _sir._ What do they teach you to say, if your master tells you what to call them?”

Kauri swallowed. “I…” His voice cracked, and Martin chuckled again, dragging him even closer, until he had to move to catch his balance and his hand was pressed into the leather seats between Martin’s legs, his head hovering over his stomach.

Staring directly down at Martin’s belt buckle, at the hint of shadows and shape that told Kauri what would come next.

He wasn’t the only one _reacting._

“I am… an active participant in fulfilling my owner’s desires,” Kauri whispered. One of the first things they’d had him memorize, when he was put into training.

“Say it again. Use _master_ instead of owner.”

“I’m… I’m an active participant in fulfilling my _m-master’s_ desires.”

 _“Are_ you, now? _Perfect._ I have so many desires, Kauri… let’s see what you can do to fulfill them… actively.” He pulled Kauri’s head back again, to look him in the eyes in the near-darkness, and watched tears run down Kauri’s cheeks with an intense, focused fascination. The blade in his hand slowly slid down Kauri’s neck until it settled just between the two halves of his collarbone. “How well can you take a knife?”

Kauri’s shivering was suddenly no longer from the unwanted coil of arousal simmering under his skin. In a flash, he felt only a horrible cold. “I-I… I’m not t-trained for pain, sir,” He said softly.

“What a shame.” Martin smiled, in a way that said he did not find it a shame at all. The car moved through the city streets. No one knew him here, and his friends wouldn’t expect much communication for days. The knife slid with a kiss of pain along the neckline of his shirt, and Kauri hissed. He tried once more to pull away, but Martin held him where he was, letting it move with careful, practiced curves. Skin smoothly melting apart, leaving behind the ache and the drops of blood.

“Don’t worry, love. You’ll bleed plenty, for me. I’ll train you myself.” Martin sighed - not quite contentment, it was edged with darker lust. “But I am ever the gentleman, aren’t I? I’ll make sure that _eager_ little body is… well taken of.” He paused, considering. The knife left Kauri’s skin and the boy breathed a sigh of relief.

Then Martin used his grip on Kauri’s hair to push his head lower, and relief was replaced once again by the wash of icy fear.

“For the foreseeable future, love, the only thing that should matter to you - that _will_ matter to you - is how well you are _pleasing_ me.”

“Yes, sir,” Kauri said softly.

He felt… distant from himself, and yet horrifyingly present, all at once. He could feel every shift of cloth against his skin, the low throb of want that had begun to course through him against his will. He could feel the hand gripped in his hair, hear Martin’s breath. 

And yet… he felt like there was a fog between himself and wha was happening. Just like he’d been trained. He would be good.

Shadows and shape. He knew how to do this. He had been forced to do this _so many times_ in the Facility it was a muscle memory by now, tongue and lips searching out the right spots… he _liked it_ by now, giving Owen - Jack - Derrick - others - what would make them feel good.

This was no different.

So why was he so scared?

“Then get started,” Martin said quietly. “You might as well familiarize yourself, you and I are going to know each other _very well.”_

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ve been watching you for weeks, Kauri, and I have _plans_ for you.”

Kauri carefully lowered his head, his right hand moving to pull down Martin’s zipper, and prayed at least one of those plans involved letting him get out of this alive.


	2. The Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin has a meeting with a work colleague... and Kauri is the unfortunate center of attention.

“Oh, Martin.” Veronica sighed, with the affectionate good humor of a slightly exasperated sibling. She put one hand on her hip, looking into Martin’s spacious, well-apportioned living room. “Found another one already?”

“I did,” Martin said amiably, moving around her with a glass of wine in each hand. “Not too long ago. He’s tried to run twice already, so I hope you don’t mind if I felt the need to keep our meeting today a bit closer to home.”

“Not at all. You know I always enjoy meeting the pretty things you pick up.” Veronica followed him further in, her eyes still trained on the young man bound naked and blindfolded on his back on the coffee table. Thick braided black rope wrapped around each wrist and ankle so tightly she could  _ see  _ where it dimpled slightly into his pale, soft skin. 

Honestly, the sheer  _ aesthetics  _ of the black rope on pale skin, black leather collar around his neck, the black curly hair that shone clean in the natural light that streamed in from all the windows, black blindfold fitted tightly over his eyes… 

“My God, he’s  _ gorgeous,”  _ Veronica exclaimed, a hand over her heart. “Where did you find him?”

“Would you believe,” Martin said pleasantly, “That I picked him up off a street corner? Oh, don’t make that face, Ronnie, not like  _ that.  _ No, this one seems to serve a more… rarified taste.”

If the boy on the table could hear them, he gave no indication of it. His forehead seemed furrowed, as if in concern, and he was shifting around uncomfortably, trapped right where he was.

The black rope was tied firmly to each leg of the coffee table, leaving the young man with his arms above his head and his legs firmly spread apart, feet flat on the glass-topped table, knees in the air. Plain as day, Veronica could  _ see  _ that the young man’s cock was hard - and honestly, Martin had chosen well on  _ that  _ front, too.

There was a glint of metal and she smirked as she took in the ring snugly sitting at the base, ensuring that as hard as he was, the darling boy certainly wouldn’t be reaching his threshold any time soon. Not without permission, anyway.  _ Beautiful. _ “Oh, Martin. How long?”

“Not that long. Just since he was caught out in the garden.”   
  
“Well, I couldn’t ask for a better backdrop to what has so far been an absolute dreary muck of a day. He’s lovely.”

“He’s a _ beauty,”  _ Martin said, with genuine appreciation and affection. “I think I’ll stay interested in this one for… God, weeks at the  _ least." _

The young man made a low soft sound of despair. He had been listening to them, after all.

“I can see why.” Veronica pulled up her tablet and stylus and began opening up the record-keeping program, encrypted beyond belief, that she’d need for the meeting. “Will you be able to focus well enough to get through this discussion, though?”

“Me? Ronnie, you know I won’t have a problem… multi-tasking. You’ve seen me do it before. Our delightful new friend here, on the other hand… he might struggle to think about anything else but _ this.” _

Veronica watched, amused, as Martin set a glass of wine down on a side table next to the couch, pulled a small remote out of his pocket, and listened to a soft  _ click  _ as he turned the dial up one from the previous setting.

Veronica hadn’t picked up on it before, but  _ now  _ she did. There was a soft  _ vrrrrrrrr  _ sound coming from the area of the coffee table, from  _ inside  _ the young man, and when Martin turned the dial, the sound got just a little bit louder.

The boy bound on the coffee table bit down on his lower lip as hard as he could, his hips jerking helplessly up into the air, shaking his head from side to side. He pulled at his wrists and ankles but they held fast - if anything the ropes  _ tightened,  _ and Veronica caught her breath in appreciation of the reddened, rubbing-raw skin she could see underneath the ropes. His breathing sped up, harsh and jagged, but…

“He’s quiet,” Veronica said, a little disappointed. 

“Ah… don’t worry. All part of the agreement _.”  _ Martin gestured to the couch and Veronica took a seat, crossing her legs at the ankles, ladylike as always. He took the seat across from her, on the other side of the coffee table with the writhing, naked young man twisting in his bonds. “We’re playing… a bit of a game, he and I.”

“Oh, are you?” She felt a stab of renewed interest. It spiked even more when she caught sight of a tear sliding out from under the boy’s blindfold, running down the side of his face to drip, one single drop, onto the glass behind his head. 

“We are. If he makes a sound… he gets a cut. One for each noise he makes during our meeting.” Veronica’s eyes had dropped to Martin’s hip before he had even moved to unsheathe the knife he’d had there. He always had  _ something,  _ some new blade or old favorite. This one had a wicked serration to it, a bit of a curve, and Veronica smiled. “He’s doing  _ very well  _ so far, but then…” He reached out, hooking two fingers under the collar before running a hand down the young man’s chest over his stomach, down his the flat planes of his pelvis. “I did hear a little noise when I mentioned how long you’ll be staying with me, didn’t I?”

The boy exhaled, another tear running out from under his blindfold. He nodded - a quick and shaky jerk of the head, slightly louder breathing. 

“Good, love,” Martin soothed. “You’re doing so well.” Martin took the blade and let it skim, not quite cutting, along the boy’s chest, little circles around the most sensitive places, back down to the left of his navel, around to the side. Veronica leaned forward, fascinated, to watch as he chose - and cut a precise one-inch slice along the back of Kauri’s upper arm.

The boy flinched as best he could away, but he wasn’t going anywhere, and soon a line of bright red blood welled up. The low vibration continued to thrum in the air as Martin sat back again. “So, let’s get down to business, Ronnie.”

“Of course.” Veronica picked her tablet back up, tapping a few things, chewing on her lower lip in thought. Her eyes kept being drawn back to the boy trying so hard to be still, and silent, and  _ good.  _ She could feel a stirring in herself in response to the absolutely beautiful image.

She was a dedicated employee, though - and she and Martin fell into an easy conversation about work while her fingers tapped and her stylus moved. A shipment had arrived late - not normally a cause for concern, but since it was raw materials intended for production use, it had thrown off an entirely supply chain by more than a month. There were some backup materials, but Veronica hadn't felt comfortable authorizing their use without Martin's knowledge and approval. 

While they spoke, Martin drank his wine slowly, savoring each sip, occasionally using one hand to lift the boy's head up and tilt the rim of the glass against his lips. He took each offered sip without hesitation, and without sound.

When he wasn't feeding the young man wine, Martin kept his hands moving, sliding over the pale skin of his chest and stomach, curving over his hips, the occasional ghost of palm and fingers over that well-formed hard cock. The boy would try, desperately, to thrust his hips up into the touch - and Martin would immediately pull away. 

The frustration was evident, the boy's mouth trembling, his body shaking with the effort of keeping back the noises he so clearly wanted to make. His teeth were pressing  _ hard  _ into his lower lip, and Veronica caught Martin's eyes drifting there again and again. 

Every now and then - when Martin would pinch a nipple and twist, then rub in gentle circles, or turn up the dial on the remote, reach down between the boy's legs and behind and  _ push _ the heavy vibrating silicone even further inside him, take it slowly out and then fuck him with it - the boy would moan, or let out a soft, half-stifled cry.

Veronica, mid-sentence usually, would watch the boy go still when he heard himself, freezing in place. She  _ watched  _ his throat move as he swallowed back whimpers, and knew Martin's eyes were locked there as well.

Martin would pick his knife back up, after each unwitting sound, and carefully added another slice. Veronica counted fifteen, now. A different spot on his body each time, a surprise to the blindfolded boy, who shivered and shook with each one. Arms, calf, stomach, a slice along his inner thigh, the sweetest, most beautiful cut at his throat. 

Through it all, he remained hard, and the vibrations within him never ceased.

Veronica kept looking at the drops of blood welling along the perfect straight lines. Fresh red blood, black ropes and hair and blindfold, pale, almost creamy skin. 

Only a few bruises, at least on this side. A pity, but Martin had always been an eccentric sort, and preferred his knives.

"Martin," Veronica said softly, watching the boy twist, lost in his own private hell of pain and pleasure by now, "May I cut him next?"

Martin paused in the process of carefully trailing fingertips up the boy's thigh, smearing a hint of blood into the crease between leg and hip, and looked up at her. "Not too deep," he cautioned, holding up one finger. "I made my boy a promise. I intend to keep it."

"Of course. Although I suppose I'll have to be patient and wait until he makes a sound again." 

"Hm. Are we finished with business?" Martin tapped lightly on the boy's stomach, feeding him more wine with his other hand. Veronica checked her tablet, going back through the notes from their discussion - approval for moving some items around, a promise to speak with certain high-dollar clients. Martin wasn't in charge of production - to be honest, Veronica didn't  _ know  _ exactly what position Martin held within the organization - but when she had spoken to her boss, he had said Martin should know about the changes and be kept fully informed.

Perhaps, Veronica thought, it was only that Martin would oversee the punishment of those responsible for the initial materials delay. 

"Yes, I think I have everything I need." She closed out her programs, turning off the encryption program last, and set the tablet beside her. 

Martin picked the remote back up with a charming smile and held out his pretty, wickedly curved knife. Veronica took it with careful, nearly reverent fingers. "Well, then. I guess we’ll just need to  _ make  _ him make some noise, won't we?"

When Veronica was ready, Martin turned the dial up three clicks higher, all at once, and the boy's back arched in a beautiful curve as he tried to throw his head back, every muscle taut as he half-moaned, half-shouted his awful, unwanted pleasure. His hands were fists, pulling as hard on the ropes as they could, and Veronica smiled at the beautiful sight of his perfect, total helplessness.

She hoped he was still around the next time she had cause for a meeting with Martin. 

She chose a spot - right along his hip, and hovered the blade over it for a moment, glancing up at Martin. Only when he laid a calming hand on the boy's stomach and nodded his approval for her to touch _his boy_ did Veronica lower the knife to his skin.

* * *

When she had made her goodbyes, Martin saw her to the door, graciously wishing her a lovely rest of her day. He wasn't happy about the shipment delay, but honestly materials timelines weren't really his  _ area.  _ He was only considered essential to inform in case someone would need to be held more thoroughly responsible, later on. 

He waited politely until her car had left the drive, backed down and turned back onto the street. Then he turned around and did not  _ walk  _ back to the living room so much as  _ meander  _ there.

He took his time, and he kept his eyes on his sweet, suffering boy. 

Some blood had begun to dry and turn a darker red, gain hints of brown. Other drops still ran brightly fresh along that pretty skin. His wrists and ankles would be raw from his futile struggles.

Martin swallowed.

He would have to kiss those raw spots, one by one. Later.

First…

He moved around, watching the boy's pointless little thrusts, chasing some kind of friction or finish that he would not find. He did not sit back down on the couch but instead moved to the end of the coffee table, drawing one finger along the boy's bent knee.

Kauri went still, and silent, trying to turn his head to hear or understand. The only sound was the low hum from the toy within him and the boy's ragged breathing. 

"Well done," Martin said gently, using the slightest pressure with just two fingers to push on the inside of the boy's knee. With a soft whimper, the boy willingly spread his knees, opening himself even more to Martin's considering,  _ claiming  _ gaze. "My work meeting is all finished. You did  _ very  _ well. You can speak."

Kauri breathed in and out, and finally said softly, "Can, can I… be done now, sir?"

"Hm… what did I tell you, when you came home with me?"

Kauri swallowed - Martin watched the movement on his throat, the shift of skin, and thought about the way he had swallowed just like that the night before, again and again, on his knees. Position Twenty-Six. Martin had a brochure with all 35 positions, and was having his sweet boy go through them again and again.

He  _ liked _ Twenty-Six.

But he had another idea, for now. 

"Y-you said, um, you said… n-not until I bleed for, for you…" Kauri whispered. "But I, I  _ did  _ bleed, sir, it still hurts where you c-cut me…"

"And yet," Martin murmured, "Your body remains delightfully anticipatory. Telling me exactly what it wants. Just… so very ready for me. For  _ anything. _ "

Kauri swallowed again, face flushing in that delicious mix of shame and want, and Martin leaned over him, admiring the length of his body, and untied his blindfold. When those wide blue eyes met his, they were hazy with arousal and full of tears.

Martin caught his breath.

"You're fucking beautiful like this," He said softly, tracing a fingertips along Kauri's jaw. "Tell me, Kauri. Tell me what you  _ need.  _ Or you can stay here, while I work in my office."

Kauri hesitated - his little internal battle was never anything less than a  _ delight  _ to witness - and then finally, that lovely mouth moved to form the words Martin was waiting for. Had so carefully taught him to say. "Please, sir, I, I n-need… you. I need you in m-me… sir.  _ Please _ ."

"So polite when you beg for it," Martin said lovingly, and let his hand slide down, to press against the pink nipples and watch Kauri twist, trying to pull away and press into the touch in equal measure. Down over his breastbone, along the center of his stomach, a brief touch at his navel. Down and down, to the young man's lovely cock, still as hard as when he'd first tied him down. "So  _ good  _ for me. Fucking hell, love. Of course I’ll give you what you’re asking for." 

He untied the ropes from the coffee table but left them knotted around Kauri's wrists and ankles, pulled him gently up to standing, catching him under the arms as his legs threatened to give out. 

He pulled the thick silicone from Kauri, discarded it for cleaning in a small woven basket on the floor next to the couch. Kauri let out a soft gasp at the sudden emptiness and fell against him, breathing heavily.

"Oh, darling," Martin murmured, running fingers through his hair, the soft black curls that smelled like the shampoo Martin had bought for him. "Sweetheart. You can always ask me to hold you, if that’s what you need. All you ever need to do is ask."

Martin sat down on the couch, opening his own pants and pulling himself out, pulling Kauri down to kneel over his lap, a knee pressed into the couch on either side of him. The boy's eyes were miserable and lost and Martin wished he could bottle the feelings he saw there. 

"There we go, love, slowly. Guide yourself down," Martin murmured, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck, listening to his lovely ragged breathing as the boy - all that spark of defiance extinguished for now, buried under what he wanted, what he  _ needed,  _ and knew Martin would give him - slowly lowered himself, the both of them silent until Martin was buried in his beautiful boy, right to the hilt. 

"Do your legs hurt, love?" He whispered into Kauri's ear.

The young man nodded, his head dropping into Martin's shoulder.

Martin slid a deft hand between them and undid the fasten to the ring Kauri wore, listened to his shuddering breath as his cock was freed. He ran a hand over Kauri's back and sighed, in pure contentment, feeling such lovely soft skin shivering under his touch, tight heat around him, the way Kauri couldn't help but tighten and relax, tighten and relax, as his body wanted so desperately to finish what Martin had started.

"You’re going to fuck yourself on me," Martin said, low and loving. "After I’ve come inside you, you may finish, too. But you’re not allowed to take what  _ you _ need... before I have what  _ I  _ need. Understood?"

Kauri nodded against his shoulder again.

" _ Answer me."  _ Martin dropped his voice into the firm authority that Kauri seemed to have absolutely no defense against, and watched a shudder run through Kauri's body, listened to his low whine.

"Yes, sir," Kauri managed, his voice thin and strained. "I understand."

"And you’re going to keep your back straight. I want to look at your pretty face while you do  _ all the work  _ for me."

Kauri braced his hands on Martin's shoulders and pushed himself back. Dangling black ropes hung from his wrists, matching the collar around his neck. He bit down on his lip, arching and straightening his back, gasping when the change in angle pushed Martin firmly against just the right place inside. He was a  _ sight,  _ a perfect pretty picture. Martin would have to take more time to make some  _ recordings.  _

Kauri shifted himself up, and then slid back down again, and the gasp became a moan.

" _ Fuck _ , love," Martin said, his eyes locked on Kauri's teeth pushing down on the silky-smooth skin on his lower lip, the tears that ran from his eyes as he moved up and down again, the red blood that still came from the cut along the side of his throat.

Kauri's soft, miserable sounds turning to lower-pitched pure lust as he rode Martin, following orders and getting  _ just  _ what he needed. 

"Good boy," Martin said, kissing his neck, licking at the slice he'd left there. "So very fucking  _ good,  _ for me."

Kauri whined in response, then moaned loudly as Martin began to move his own hips, thrusting up when Kauri came down. 

He was  _ gorgeous. _

Kauri was a work of _art_ gone too long without proper appreciation, like a Rembrandt left to languish in a filthy alleyway. 

Martin, though…

Martin was an artist, himself. The Rembrandt had not been finished, and Martin knew what colors and brush strokes were needed to fill in the spaces the original artist had forgotten or ignored. 

It might take weeks to finish Kauri so thoroughly that he could be put back where he'd found him, for some other collector to  _ appreciate.  _

Martin rather hoped it took  _ months.  _


End file.
